


That's virtue for you. Virtue? Very well, but madness too.

by tusaisquejecroisentoi



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Skating, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Multi, Pining, Slow Burn, like 20 year slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tusaisquejecroisentoi/pseuds/tusaisquejecroisentoi
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire have been skating together since they were 7 and 9 years old, respectively. They are Canada's top ice dance team, and have been for the last five years. After the 2014 Olympics, it feels like the end of the era. They lost—if silver is considered losing. Will they leave skating and each other? Will they realize that the only way they can be themselves is on the ice? Or will it all be simply for another medal, another title, another record?
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Montparnasse (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Magloire/Baptistine Myriel, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is a V/M AU, leave me alone. Also, I am completely disregarding the fact that pairs and ice dance have to be opposite sex because I think same-sex ice dance slaps.

**CHAPTER 1: PROLOGUE**

**Sochi Olympics 2014: Press Conference**

"Please welcome our medallists in ice dance—"

Grantaire's brain tuned out. This was it. The last press conference. He felt like he had let Enjolras down. Everything he did in this godforsaken sport reflected back onto Enjolras. That is perhaps, why he was about three drinks in, having started as soon as he realized they weren't going to win this one. Enough that the press might not catch on, but Enjolras knew. Enjolras always knew. 

"our silver medalists, Enjolras and Grantaire representing Canada, and our gold medalists, Prouvaire and Pontmercy, representing the United States of America! Now, some questions from the press..." 

Grantaire felt numb. He turned to watch Enjolras, the upturn of his lip, the way his fingers drummed the table in front of him, the gentle slope of his nose. It wasn't like he had to, he had spent almost every day with that face and those hands since he was nine years old. They were right beside each other, and yet, Grantaire couldn't remember feeling further apart. He shouldn't be upset, he thought. They were still the most decorated Canadian ice dance team ever. Two silver medals in one Olympics shouldn't be a loss... unless you're the best the world has ever seen. Or, well, partnered with the best the world has ever seen. A sharp breath in from Enjolras reminded him of where he was and made him aware that Marius was answering a question. Fuck. What was the question? 

"It's a wonderful note to end our career on, and I've won gold in more than one way," Marius said, blushing, locking eyes with Cosette, former Canton ice dancer and current NBC ice dance commentator. "Cosette Fauchelevent and I have recently gotten engaged, and I will be retiring from ice dance." 

Grantaire saw the ever so subtle eye roll from Enjolras. Of course, he thought. Enjolras just wants to talk about skating, that's all he ever wants to talk about. 

"And how about our silver medallists?"

Enjolras gently pushed the mic towards him, expectantly. "Uhh...relationship status is none of your business" Grantaire snarked, adding in a z-snap for good measure. The press laughed, but Cosette gave him a sad half-smile, and Enjolras' laugh was forced. Grantaire wished the floor would just swallow him whole. 

"Alright, on to the next question..." 

_**Vancouver Olympics 2010: Press Conference** _

_Enjolras was laughing, happy. Grantaire, for once, was not drunk, simply drunk off of happiness of their win. They did it. None of it mattered: Enjolras's injury, Montparnasse. The Thenardiers were happy with their win and so were they. They were the youngest ice dance team to ever win gold at the Olympics, and the first North American team. Everything was perfect._

_"Would you ever consider being a couple?"_

_Enjolras laughed, "who knows, maybe?"_

_"That's the first time I've gotten a maybe, so progress!" Grantaire joked. He never wanted to leave this moment._

**2014 Sochi Olympics: later**

Grantaire passed Magloire on his way out of the press conference, stopping her. "If we ever come back, I want it to be with you and Baptistine," he said. 

"I would like nothing more," she replied, giving him a squeeze on the arm before letting him go. 

**That evening, at a restaurant.**

Enjolras, Grantaire, Eponine, Marius, Cosette, Jehan, and Montparnasse. Team Canton. They had been the centre of the ice dance world for about five years, but it was the end of an era. Well, Eponine was a singles skater and Montparnasse was a "footwork specialist", whatever that meant, but it was a family. 

"Hey, you're not the only one who just missed gold tonight," Eponine said, pointedly, "I need a fucking drink. I don't think I can make it another four years. At the very least, I'm taking a break." 

"Good," Grantaire replied, "I intend to go home and drink my way through Western Ontario." 

"What about Gibelotte?" Eponine said sarcastically. 

"Who?"

"Gibelotte. Your blonde, pretty, fiercely competent, gold medallist curler girlfriend? Sound like anyone else we know?" 

Grantaire held up his middle finger, taking another swig of his drink for good measure. Meanwhile, Enjolras and Cosette were talking about plans for the future. 

"It won't be the same without all of you. I'm going to miss the two of you," Cosette said. 

"I don't want to be that guy who was once really good at skating. I want to be the best, always. I don't want skating to be the only part of me people remember." Enjolras said emphatically. 

"So what are you going to do?" 

"I'm going to get my bachelor's degree in political science. Hopefully, go to law school...I want to help people. There's so many problems in the sport, and I want to change it all." 

"Think you can take time out of your busy schedule of preparing to change the world to be a part of my bridal party?" 

"Of course. Of course." 

**Later that night**

Enjolras and Grantaire were walking back to the Olympic village. The rest of them had decided to continue to celebrate, but Enjolras' legs were acting up again. They were holding hands, but, Grantaire told himself, it was natural for them. They had held hands on the ice for eighteen years. It was completely platonic. Besides, he was holding up Enjolras as he always did, the perfect stem to a perfect rose, supporting him every way he knew how.

"Two years. We'll reconvene, and we'll figure out what we want to do. We'll reassess, see if there's anything left for us," Enjolras softly murmured.

"Would it kill you to speak like a human being, Apollo?" Grantaire grumbled. 

"Maybe when you're sober, R." 

_**2012: Canton, Michigan** _

_"Into the circular lift now, but be careful!" Madame Thenardier shouted as they circled past, skating side by side. Grantaire stumbled, and he never stumbled. He had always been the prodigy of ice dance, with perfect footwork and deep edges._

_"Grantaire, what the hell, I just got back from surgery," Enjolras said, angrily. He stopped suddenly, in an uncharacteristic hockey stop, spraying Grantaire in flurries of ice, "are you seriously drunk right now? Are you trying to drop me?"_

_Grantaire dropped to his knees, holding his hands up in some sort of apology. "I would rather never skate again than let you fall, Apollo. Please."_

**2014: Pearson International Airport, Toronto**

"I'm staying in the city for a couple weeks with my sister," Enjolras said as the plane began to descend. 

"I'm going home, to Ilderton," Grantaire replied, softly. It wasn't like needed to, Enjolras already knew that. This was perhaps the most meaningless conversation they had ever had. He gently took Enjolras' hand in his own and closed his eyes, desperately hoping that he would get to hold it again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not super researched, but I follow figure skating the same way that straight white American men follow football. Especially ice dance. So my brain is just a tome of too much fs knowledge. I wrote a statistics paper on ISU judging. I'm way too far in to not write an fs au. 
> 
> Team Canton was a camp in Canton, Michigan coached by Marina Zueva and Igor Shpilband, and later just Marina Zueva, and had the top ice dance teams from about the mid 2000s to the mid 2010s, starting with Tanith Belbin and Ben Agosto, and going on to include Meryl Davis and Charlie White, the Shibutani siblings, and of course Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir.
> 
> Pearson International Airport is the Toronto Airport.


	2. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is...VERY Canada specific, especially with locations for this chapter, so if it says London or Ilderton or wherever just assume I'm talking about Ontario (Canada). 
> 
> Moulin Rouge spoiler kinda I guess.

**CHAPTER TWO: INTERLUDE**

**December 2015: Toronto Cricket Club**

Enjolras passed the front desk, going into the rink, a bundle of righteousness. Who was going to stop him from entering practically any ice rink in the country? His breath caught as the lights of the reflected white of the rink, and the cool air surrounded him. He had missed skating. He walked down to the boards, standing next to Myriel, Mabeuf, Fantine, and Combeferre, watching the skaters as they ended their session. He watched as Combeferre, seemingly without even knowing it, traced Courfeyrac's on-ice movements, an off-ice shadow. 

Fantine embraced Enjolras, "it's been a while, how have you been?" she asked, without taking her eyes off of her skaters. 

"It's good, I've been getting my degree, I've got an advertisement deal with a glasses company. And I'm not skating right now, you know that. " Enjolras replied.

"And yet you're going to Magloire for show programs," Fantine teased, "are you sure you won't come back? You could, you know." 

"Two years. We said two years." 

_**2007 Canadian Championships** _

_"I'm going to go out on a limb here. I think these two will be the best dance team Canada has ever produced," Fantine said as they finished their free dance, doing the commentary for CBC._

_**Later** _

_"Please give a round of applause for our silver medallists, Enjolras and Grantaire." They beamed as they stepped up onto the podium. It was a strange sight, as Grantaire had just hit his growth spurt, gangly and awkward, but finally cemented as Enjolras' partner. There had been years where there was the fear that Enjolras would outgrow him, but somehow they made it. Enjolras, at this point, had shock-red hair, dyed to revolt against the fact that they had been forced by the Thenardier coaching team to skate to Valse Triste._

_"And our gold medallists, Magloire and Baptistine!"_

_Magloire and Baptistine enveloped the awkward teens in crushing hugs. "Next time, it'll be you," Baptistine whispered to Grantaire as they passed, "you two are going to be incredible."_

**December 2015: Yorkdale Mall, RH Toronto Courtyard Café**

"So when's the last time you saw 'Aire?" Courfeyrac prodded. 

"You were there," Enjolras responded, "May. Japan. The tour with all of us. " 

"You haven't been back home?" Combeferre questioned.

"I've been back to London, that doesn't mean I've seen Grantaire," Enjolras said brusquely. 

"He finally got his OSSD," Courfeyrac offered.

"He promised Magnon," Enjolras suddenly said softly, looking down at his hands. 

"What are you really scared of, coming back?" Courfeyrac suddenly said.

"Courf-" 'Ferre admonished. 

"No, really." Courfeyrac said. 

"I want to be the best, or nothing. I don't want to be the guy, who, at one point, was the best in the world and is milking that to stay alive," Enjolras said, a blaze of righteousness and self-assuredness. 

**December 2015: Ilderton Arena**

Gribier passed Grantaire on his way out of the arena, "hey, lock up will you?" he yelled back. 

"Of course!" Grantaire responded. His head was pounding. He was the most sober he'd been in months, and it felt like shit. He stepped onto the ice, circling around for a couple minutes, feeling his edges cut into the ice, the cool air surrounding him. The ice was always a sense of home for him, but tonight it wasn't a comfort, but an all-consuming cold. Even as a little kid, when they did stroking exercises switching partners, he had always orbited Enjolras, looking and waiting for Enjolras to come back to him. 

"Hey asshole, you miss me?" a sharp, loud voice pierced his thoughts that could only belong to one Eponine Thenardier. 

"How'd you get in?" he said, skating towards her. 

"Your mom called me. I heard you and Gibelotte broke up." 

"Doesn't make a difference." 

"So you're still on your sad 'let's see how many bars I can occupy in Western Ontario before all of them ban me' crawl?" 

"I'm not drunk now."

"Yes, but you're skating in a dark arena to fucking...Stay, ah, your exhibition piece from the Olympics. You're still the saddest fucking person I've seen in weeks, and have you seen me?" 

"Let me be-" he whined. 

"We're going to your house, we're watching whatever movie is on tv, and I'll buy the wine." 

"Deal." 

**Later, Grantaire's house, Ilderton**

"When's the last time you saw Enjolras, anyways," Eponine said, a full glass in her hand. 

"May," Grantaire sighed.

"Yeah, a real brilliant idea to skate to Good Kisser for that tour, huh?" 

Grantaire chucked the nearest pillow at her, taking a long chug from his bottle in response. 

"Oh do you want me to talk about 2013 Worlds again?" she said.

"Enjolras wanted to do Carmen!" 

"Yeah, and it affected you so much that you shouted so loud you could be heard over the music in an arena...what did Enjolras do to you anyway, huh?" she teased.

"Eat glass," he said, turning towards the television.

On screen, tango Roxanne played as Satine is forced to go with the Duke, Christian yelling his pain for this moment, catching Grantaire's attention. 

_**2009: Canton Rink, Michigan** _

_Enjolras smiled as Montparnasse took his hand, Montparnasse correcting his movements. Grantaire sped past, narrowly missing Montparnasse. Or, it looked so, if Grantaire wasn't the most precise skater of the last five years._

_"Hey Grantaire, it almost looks like you're trying a bit too hard, eh?" Montparnasse called. Grantaire gave him a dirty look, skating the boards and squeezing his waterbottle in his rage, spraying the ice with water. Enjolras sighed and skated over to him._

_"That was unnecessary."_

_"He's an asshole. Why are you even dating him?"_

_"Since when do you have a say over who I date? Besides, he's our footwork coach. Maybe you could use some of that, if what you just did was anything to go on," Enjolras said, cold and cutting._

_"What, so you're fucking him for a medal, Enjolras?" Grantaire bit back._

_Enjolras turned and glided away, leaving Grantaire alone at the boards._

**December 2015: Grantaire's house, Ilderton**

Grantaire was crying through the end of the movie, Christian and Satine professing their love for each other before Satine died in his arms. 

"I want to call him," he slurred. 

"In the morning, you should. Definitely. Took you long enough. But not now," Eponine said. 

**Morning**

"Hey Enjolras, how have you been lately?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toronto Cricket Club is the skating rink that Brian Orser and Tracy Wilson coach at. It is mostly singles skaters, but has some ice dance teams coached by Tracy. Brian coaches and has coached many Olympic skaters, including Yuna Kim, Javier Fernandez, Yuzuru Hanyu, and Evgenia Medvedeva, which accounts for many of the medals from Pyeongchang 2018, especially in men's.
> 
> Yorkdale mall is a big fancy mall in Toronto that has mostly high end designer stores. 
> 
> The OSSD is the Ontario Secondary School Diploma. 
> 
> Someone please let me know if you're sick of how fucking Canada figure skating specific this is. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! This is a bit of a filler chapter, but it's setting up a bit of what's to happen next! Please let me know what you think!


	3. I Want To Hold Your Hand

**CHAPTER 3: I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND**

**_1999: National Ballet of Canada_ **

_Enjolras stood at the barre, stretching, still wearing his warm-up boots. The room was full of forty other dancers, all desperate to become new students of the National Ballet School. He kicked off his boots, carefully placing them to the side before reclaiming his spot at the barre. He schooled himself, making sure every point, every line, and every turnout was perfect: every toe pointed, every arm gracefully seeming on air._

_Tendu, tendu, plié, hold. Degagé, degagé, degagé, ron de jambe._

_"Now move to the centre," the stern, breathtakingly elegant voice of Madame Innocente rang out._

**_A week later: London, Ontario_ **

_Enjolras was pulled out of class to receive a call._

_"Enjolras, you have been accepted to the National Ballet School. You will be living and attending the school in Toronto in three months," Madame Innocente said, calm and precise even through the old, crackly elementary school phone._

" _Thank you, ma'am, but I have some promises I need to keep. I have an ice dance partner, and I can't just leave like this. I'm sorry, but I have to decline," the steady, sure voice of a ten-year-old Enjolras rang out, full of passion and far too professional for a child._

_"Are you certain? We see you succeeding here, and having the potential to continue on to the National Ballet. We don't give this opportunity to just anyone."_

_"I'm sure."_

_The ballet reached out three more times that year, but Enjolras could not be shaken. At the time there was no way he knew how far they would go. They had only been skating together for three years, but, he had made a commitment—to ice dance, and to Grantaire. And Enjolras never broke promises._

**January 2016: Highway 409**

"I'm scared," Grantaire breathed, tapping the passenger window with his fingertips. 

"What do you have to be afraid of? It's a China trip with Enjolras. Sounds like a dream," Eponine said, gripping the wheel of her SUV. 

There was a pause as Grantaire simply continued to stare out the window.

"Look," Eponine said, breaking the silence, staring straight ahead, "you didn't fuck up. And even if you do fuck up, you're not going to disappoint him. He could've dropped your ass after your first competition when you just completely ate shit."

"Irma Boissy did." 

"Yeah, and where the hell is she now? Definitely not a two-time Olympian. Which terminal again?" she asked as they turned into the airport.

"Three. Thanks." 

**_October 2008: St. Joseph Mercy Hospital, Canton, Michigan_ **

_Enjolras sat in the hospital for the third day after his surgery, completely alone. His family was back home in Canada, and Grantaire hadn't so much as called him since he went in the hospital. He was terrified. 19 years old with not a single person who could come visit him. God, he was pathetic._

_Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Grantaire? His coaches—the Thenardiers, maybe? Montparnasse. That was unexpected._

_"Just wanted to see how you've been holding up, especially with all of the rumours," Montparnasse said, approaching the bed._

_“Rumours, what rumours?” Enjolras sat up too quickly, wincing._

_“Well, you know. Grantaire’s always been a hot commodity in ice dance.”_

_“Yeah, perfect skating skills, deep edges, the prodigy of ice dance,” Enjolras’s words came out sharp, far more cutting than he meant them to be. He was so glad to be Grantaire’s partner, but what if he was a burden to him? He was so replaceable. And Enjolras had always struggled to keep up, knowing he was just bringing down their team._

_“Well, Madame Thenardier has been inviting people to try out skating with him—patterns in hold, lifts, you know, just what he can’t practice alone.”_

_“Just so he's not training alone until I get back...right?”_

**_2011: Rink at Canton, Michigan_ **

_Enjolras had gone in for another surgery after they won the Olympics. They hadn’t spoken about anything but training. Only what had to do specifically with their skating at that very moment. No Jeopardy! watch nights at Enjolras’s apartment, no affirmations to each other before going on the ice. Radio silence. They were in the dressing rooms, Marius, Jehan, and Grantaire eagerly chattering as Enjolras just sat, taking deep breaths._

_Magloire had come from Montreal to choreograph an exhibition program for Enjolras and Grantaire. Of course it had to be to “I Want To Hold Your Hand”. As Enjolras skated towards Grantaire, their hands not quite touching as they circled each other, he said nothing but knew they would be okay. Finally, as the music swelled, their hands were clasped. The song said it all. They had each other, they needed each other. The song always spoke for them._

**January 2016: Pearson Airport Terminal 3, Gate C32**

Enjolras, sat at the gate, nervous, waiting. He scratched patterns into his palms, checking his boarding pass and his phone every minute or so. Suddenly, he spotted Grantaire running to the gate, dropping down beside Enjolras.

“God, I’m not late, am I?” His hand dropped into Enjolras’s, natural, comfortable like it was always meant to be there.

**January 2016: The Great Wall of China**

“Hello, do you speak any English?” Grantaire panted, trying to find someone to take their picture. So far their trip had been lovely, but a bit strange. It felt weird to try to catch up with someone who you should see almost every hour of the day. 

“'Aire!” Enjolras called, having found someone. They snapped the picture, two happy tourists on a beautiful day, the inklings of mist settling in the air. 

“Enj, listen.” Grantaire took Enjolras’s hands, pulling him to the side, where they wouldn’t be in the way. “I miss it. I miss skating with you. I want to come back.”

Enjolras looked down at their clasped hands, then back up at Grantaire’s face. Honest, tinged with fear. He couldn’t make eye contact with Grantaire, couldn’t see the hope that all was on him. “And what if we fail? What if we’re terrible?” 

“Oh, we’re not going to fail. We’re going to win.” 

Confidence, from Grantaire, was perhaps one of the things Enjolras loved most about Grantaire skating. Outside of skating, he was pessimistic, self-deprecating, skeptical, but in the skating world? He was confident, bordering on cocky, and he had every right to be. Enjolras looked up at Grantaire, and smiled. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter I promise we get to actual skating.


	4. The Greatest Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw alcohol

**CHAPTER 4: THE GREATEST GIFT**

**_December 2013: Canadian Nationals_ **

_They were doing a silly Christmas fluff piece for Skate Canada, a list of questions written out on a page. Enjolras, of course, loved to reject the very idea of Christmas, reciting the rant that Grantaire at this point knew by heart about the capitalism of the holiday as well as the way that society ignores other cultures for Christmas and Christmas only. Enjolras would never recite that rant in front of the cameras, though. That didn’t mean Grantaire couldn’t scan the sheet for a question that would push him there, though._

_“Okay,” Grantaire said, “what’s the gift given by the other you like the most?”_

_Enjolras smiled at him, and turned towards the camera “I have two. One was, Grantaire, one year for Christmas gave me a Marvin the Martian body pillow, ‘cause we used to spend a lot of time in the car. And he wrapped it in wrapping paper I think or newspapers—”_

_“Oh, newspapers,” Grantaire answered. Although the camera was trained on the two of them, his eyes hadn’t left Enjolras’s face._

_“And I took that thing everywhere with me, that was amazing. And um, it’s funny it’s kind of a personal thing I’ve never really told anyone but,” Enjolras blushed, looking down and tucking his hair behind his ear before looking up again, “in training, we often reference Marnie McBean, and she often talks about filling your jar of rice. So, every good thing you do, you’re adding rice to the bucket, and sometimes when you have bad days, you’re not necessarily taking rice out, but you’re not adding any, but you still have the bucket of rice. So, anyways, before the world championships last year, in Nice, my doorbell rang, and there was no one there, but there was this gigantic bucket full of rice, and it was from Grantaire, and it basically just said, look at how much rice we have, kiddo…” Enjolras paused to look at Grantaire before ending his sentence “and that’s probably the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”_

**_December 2011: Canton Rink_ **

_Grantaire and Matelotte walked to the rink from the parking lot, hand in hand. Matelotte stopped him to tighten her long, blonde, ponytail, before taking his hand again, leaning into him._

_“Babe, I love the necklace,” she said, leaning her neck back and hooking her finger in it to show it off, “you’re so thoughtful.” She curled further into his side._

_He wasn’t, really. He had been panicking at the jewelry store, trying to find something that made him think of his girlfriend. Nothing had struck a chord, so he tried to go simple. Something heart-shaped, something that just screamed ‘I am definitely in love with you, and you alone.’ If only the heart-shaped necklace he picked wasn’t one that he chose because he had seen it every day for the last three months, as he skated in hold, circled the ice, lifted, and simply was in the presence of it around the neck of Enjolras._

_They entered the rink, and walked over to their respective skating partners. He saw Enjolras’s eyes go over to Matelotte’s neck, as she gushed to her partner about the gift._

_“Excuse me,” Enjolras murmured, walking to the changerooms, alone. Grantaire never saw him wear that necklace again._

**January 2016: Ilderton, Ontario**

Grantaire was driving both of them back to Ilderton after the trip. Enjolras didn’t drive unless he absolutely had to. They had spent the rest of the trip planning, calling Baptistine and Magloire, and just excited to be going into competition again, as they took in the beautiful sights of a country they had only travelled to to compete.

“I didn’t forget the holidays, you know. Your present is in the glovebox,” Grantaire said softly, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Grantaire, you know I don’t celebrate the holidays. Gift giving is nothing but—”

“Yeah, yeah, consumer capitalism’s capitalization on yet another holiday based in Eurocentric ideals,” Grantaire rolled his eyes, “just take it.”

Out of his peripheral vision, he watched Enjolras open the glovebox carefully, fishing out a DVD of _Moulin Rouge!_. 

Enjolras let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding back. “I haven’t watched this since—” 

“We watched it as teenagers together?” Grantaire answered. “Well, you know how we struggled so hard to find music last time, and the music makes the program…

“We wanted to do Romeo and Juliet.”

“Right, we wanted to do Romeo and Juliet, and Madame Thenardier said we were too old for it… Anyways, I thought it would be perfect. It’s the only movie we _did_ watch together as teenagers, since we never agreed on anything, and—” 

“But it’s a warhorse, it’s so overdone—” 

“So if we do it right, it’s our warhorse,” Grantaire cut him off, “it has a story, it’s familiar...I think it could be our victory lap. It could be our goodbye.” If Grantaire’s breath caught on ‘goodbye’, he was glad neither of them mentioned it.

“Okay.” 

**February 20, 2016: CBC News Studio, Toronto, Ontario**

Grantaire sat in a chair backstage, bouncing his knee up and down. He never wore a suit, it felt suffocating, like it was going to swallow him up into the floor. Enjolras sat beside him, silent, touching up his makeup and preparing himself for the announcement. Grantaire rifled through his bag, finding a flask. He unscrewed it, and knocked back a shot.

“Grantaire—” Enjolras turned towards him.

Suddenly, Cosette burst in, smiling and enveloping them in hugs. “I’ve missed you two!” 

Grantaire laughed, “since when are you broadcasting for CBC as well as NBC?”

“Just while Fantine’s off. Besides,” she said, playfully slapping him on the arm, “you know my father’s a legendary Canadian figure skater, so what does it matter?”

“Yeah but you skated for the US, and you’re marrying an American,” Grantaire teased, scrunching up his nose in mock disgust. Enjolras tried to hide an amused smile, although there was still worry etched into his brow. 

Cosette laughed, “We’re on now, come on!” 

They stepped out to the set, standing side by side. 

“Cameras rolling in 3, 2, …” 

Cosette smiled, “A lifetime together on the ice, welcome back to ‘A Road to the Olympic Games’ presented by CBC and Petro Canada. The Olympic champions, 2-time World Champions, 6-time Canadian champions, Enjolras and Grantaire, ice dancers extraordinaire, and let’s not waste time, you have an announcement to make. Enjolras, I’ll give you the honour.” 

“Oh, well, thank you. We’ve decided to return to competition, and we are so excited. I don’t think that will come as a surprise to many people, we still have that fire and are really anxious to get back on that competitive ice,” Enjolras said, a plastic, perfect smile on his face. Grantaire hated Enjolras’s publicity voice, soft and restrained, the perfect ice prince, but nothing like the Enjolras he knew. 

“Wow,” Cosette said, “that’s great news and I’m sure figure skating fans will be delighted to hear it. What is the motivation, from your perspective, ‘Taire, you’ve done everything in this sport already?” Cosette laughed. 

“Well, thank you, it is funny to look back on our career, and I think the biggest motivation is that we still love the sport. We needed time off after Sochi, but there was a time when we walked back into a rink and we got excited again. We always had that fire within us, and we’re coming back at a time where it’s not really necessary on the scene. I mean, we have such a great Canadian team, so it’s not necessary for us to come back. There’s no space almost, but it’s for us,” Grantaire turned towards Enjolras, taking his hand, “We wanna come back, we wanna push ourselves and accomplish some personal goals. I think our whole life we’ll be wanting to compete at the Olympics, but the reality is, we probably only have one more shot at it, so we have to take advantage of it.”

Cosette smiled, “you’ve had some wonderful Olympic moments, between Sochi, and, if you can still recall, 2010 Vancouver at home, becoming the youngest ice dancers ever to win a gold medal, and the first North Americans to do it...that was a momentous occasion, wasn’t it?”

Enjolras’s smile turned brilliant and true, and his voice gained more passion, Grantaire’s eyes not leaving him for a second, “Of course, and that’s what every athlete dreams of, and we took some time off after Sochi and tried to fill that void, we did so many other things, but there was still a bit of an emptiness, and I think watching footage of our skating, we just see that there’s more that we can do, there’s room for us to improve, and there’s space for us to create art, which is really exhilarating.” 

Cosette nodded and continued, “Let’s get down to brass tacks. So, when does the work begin and what does the competitive schedule look like next year?”

“Well, the work has already started, we’ve been hard at it for several months now, and I think we just continue,” Grantaire began to feel warm, the alcohol hitting his system as he blinked rapidly. 

Enjolras squeezed his hand and continued for him, “We go on tour with Stars On Ice soon, and then June 6th is our first official day training in Montreal, and we’ll be settled into our apartments by then, and hopefully competing by the fall. We still have to qualify, obviously,” he laughed, “we have a lot of work ahead of us, and that’s part of what we’re wanting, we’re excited for the challenge.”

Slight concern for Grantaire was apparent in Cosette’s face as she tried to finish the interview with a smile, “We’ll see you at the Grand Prix Season, and after that at the World Championships and then at the Olympic Games in Pyeongchang.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time we get to meet the amis and we get some fun funky show skating wooo!


	5. To Be Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, i'm sorry i disappeared for a month, finals were a LOT to get through, but we're back!

**CHAPTER 5: TO BE WANTED**

**March 5, 2016: Pearson Airport**

“You sure you packed everything you need for one month of touring?” Grantaire joked as him and Enjolras lined up to be checked in. Grantaire had all that he needed—one carry-on and one backpack, while Enjolras seemed to have no less than seven different bags.

“Yeah, I think this is about good.” 

They passed through customs without much fuss, then went to sit at the gate. “Duty-free, nice!” Grantaire laughed, choosing to purposely ignore the way Enjolras stiffened at his words. He internally braced himself for a fight, surprised when no outburst came. Grantaire had forgotten that he didn’t know Enjolras anymore, after two years apart, or perhaps he never really had. Either way, he decided on a single bottle of whisky before following Enjolras to the gate. 

Enjolras’s face held a tightness, an unreadable look as he stared at his phone. “Enj, what is it?” 

“Tholomyes. He’s reminding us that Skate Canada doesn’t need us, and isn’t exactly happy with us deciding to come back.” 

“Fuck him,” Grantaire said, opening the whisky and gulping some back, “fuck him and fuck Skate Canada. Two Olympics, give them three medals, and this is the thanks we get?” He paused, taking another drink, this time a long sip, coating his tongue and lavishing the burn as it hit his throat. 

“Grantaire—”

“Tholomyes has never given us a single thing. We don’t even have Grand Prix spots yet. We’re not officially on the Canadian team and—”

“And this time, it’s different.” Grantaire knew that Enjolras had barely restrained fury in him too, but his soft, sure words, and his bright blue eyes locking with his own, caught his attention. “This is for us,” Enjolras continued, “it’s just you and me out there.” Enjolras put a hand over Grantaire’s, resting on the bottle. 

Grantaire simply nodded. Perhaps they weren’t so out of sync after all. 

**_2013: Canton, Michigan_ **

_ Marius and Jehan entered the rink, just as they had every morning for the past six years. This time, however, they were met with confused stares from their training partners. _

_ Enjolras turned to Grantaire “I think we should go somewhere else.” _

_ “Where would we go, Enjolras? Olympic season’s coming up, you think we can switch and win if they stay here?” _

_ “But why didn’t they go with Monsieur Thenardier?” Enjolras’s confusion turned into a near death stare as Marius went to hug Madame Thenardier. _

_ “I don’t know, Enj. I don’t know.”  _

_ The divorce, and simultaneous coaching break-up of the Thenardiers had come as a shock to much of the Canton camp. Like children of any divorce, the skaters had been deliberating for weeks as to who would go where. Marius and Jehan and Grantaire and Enjolras were the top teams in the world, flip-flopping between first and second at Worlds for the past three years. It would only make sense for them to separate with the Thenardier separation, as to not go head-to-head every single day, and instead hold off for competition. Or, so it seemed. Monsieur Thenardier was Marius and Jehan’s main coach anyways, while Madame was Enjolras and Grantaire’s.  _

_ Grantaire spotted Eponine entering the dressing room, seemingly unbothered by the clear tension between the two teams. “Hey, Ep,” Grantaire spoke softly, a quick look up ensuring that Marius and Jehan were lost in a world of their own, while Enjolras angrily tightened his skates with the fury of a thousand suns, the laces leaving lines in his hands as he pulled. “Any chance you know why Marius and Jehan stayed?” _

_ Eponine stayed looking forward, taking her own skates out while continuing the conversation. “USFS can pay for a new technical coach. USFS wants a coach and choreographer that’s had the vision for three Olympic golds. Besides, if they win, it makes a nice fluff piece. Second generation of Pontmercys carry on working with Madame Thenardier to Olympic championship. Would’ve been even nicer if they could’ve done Mahler. But you made sure that wouldn’t happen, didn’t you?” Eponine smirked. _

_ “We didn’t know that it was so important to the Pontmercys when we chose the music,” Enjolras spoke into his boot. _

_ “Enjolras, didn’t anyone ever tell you eavesdropping is rude?” Eponine quipped. _

_ “I didn’t realize I wasn’t privy to a conversation happening right next to me,” he responded dryly. _

_ Grantaire smirked while Eponine rolled her eyes. “Anyways, USFS is pouring money into ensuring that ice dance gold is theirs.”  _

_ The trio watched as Marius and Jehan went for warm up. “Okay, I’ll call Tholomyes. If USFS wants a bidding war, a bidding war it will be,” Grantaire laughed, “Go ahead, I’ll meet you on the ice.”  _

_ Half an hour later, Grantaire joined Enjolras on the ice. “So?” _

_ “Skate Canada’s sweethearts my ass, Thomo—Tho—Tholomyes won’t give us shit,” Grantaire slurred. _

_ Enjolras dropped Grantaire’s hand, watching Grantaire stumble before regaining his balance. “Grantaire, how long was that call?” _

_ “Maybe five minutes? Not a cent, Apollo! Not a—” _

_ “Are you fucking kidding me right now? We have months until the Olympics, we clearly have no options, and you’re wasting our training time getting drunk off your ass.”  _

_ “I’m fine, Apollo—” _

_ “I’m not skating with you like this.” _

_ “Trust me—” _

_ “I don’t. Not right now,” Enjolras’s voice got louder, inciting the fury that Grantaire craved, that Grantaire hadn’t seen this whole season. “How dare you compromise our entire lives like this?”  _

_ “Oh, your holiness, of course, a drop shalt never touch thine lips, for how could mere mortal sin even touch that of the mighty Apollo?” Grantaire was pushing, now. He was far too caught up in the blazing glory that seemed to surround his skating partner.  _

_ “Stop it, I’m not a god. Grantaire, you are impossible. I am not skating with you today.” The pair was far too caught up to notice the stares of their rink mates, stopping their training to watch the golden couple fight yet again.  _

_ “But of course, for mine are not the saintly hands of yours, and cannot touch them in palmer’s kiss. Hey Eponine, do you still have that blonde wig? Perhaps god will strike me down for creating a sandbag idol. I’ll skate with sandbags again today,” he said with a mock bow, daringly, impossibly graceful based on how drunk he seemed.  _

_ “When the hell have you trained with sandbags?” Enjolras shouted, confusion and pure rage in his eyes. _

_ Grantaire softened. “During your surgery. Didn’t want to skate with anyone else.”  _

_ Enjolras was caught off guard, shocked silent in a complete rarity, giving Grantaire the opportunity to storm off the ice.  _

**March 7, 2016: Tokyo, Japan**

The group of thirty or so international skaters milled around the ice, a babble of overlapping languages as Combeferre waited to start the choreo session. 

“‘Aire! It’s been too long!” Grantaire was caught off guard by Joly gliding towards him at full speed, Bossuet and Musichetta close behind.

“I heard you’re leaving the retirement club, what are they going to do without you?” Musichetta teased. 

“Yeah, we were supposed to coach together!” Bossuet added.

“And how exactly would that work? Where in the world would you put the training camp?” Grantaire smiled, he had missed them.

“International training camp!” Joly laughed, opening his arms into a spiral position to circle Grantaire. “We’ve got the US, Canada, Italy, and Switzerland! We’re unstoppable!” 

“And where would we put it, Jolllly?” Grantaire was fully laughing now, as Joly continued to circle and Bossuet had fallen to the ice in the joy of it all.

“What’s the half-way point, somewhere in the Atlantic ocean?” Musichetta added, smiling. “But really, Grantaire, we’re happy for you. Besides, I’m coming back too, so I’ll see you.”

“Oh?”

“Well, with Joly doing commentary at NBC with Cosette and Boss starting the skating school in Switzerland, I figured it would be the easiest way for us to be with each other more. It’s been hard not seeing each other at competitions all the time.” 

“Okay, skaters, to the centre line please!” Combeferre’s clear voice carried across the ice. 

**March 10, 2016: Tokyo, Japan**

“What’s this program about?”

“Well, it’s about a couple with bad miscommunication,” Enjolras started. Grantaire watched him, eyes never leaving his face. “They genuinely love each other but they’re bad for each other, at least the way they are now. They keep running away from each other and pulling each other back, but they’re both too afraid to ask to try again.” 

The two skated to the centre of the ice, Grantaire’s eyes drawn to how the intricate straps of Enjolras’s costume perfectly framed the muscles of his back. The pop beat began, and the crowd disappeared. All Grantaire could think of was Enjolras, the scent of his shampoo in his face as he buried his nose into Enjolras’s hair. The feeling of Enjolras’s body against his own. The feeling of Enjolras’s body as Grantaire’s hands ran up his body. A month of this, and then another tour in Canada. God, he was fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my lovely girlfriend for supporting my madness


	6. The Worst To Lose

**CHAPTER 6: THE WORST TO LOSE**

**_2013: Ilderton, Ontario_ **

_ Grantaire wondered for the thousandth time why he had agreed to this. The Enjolras and Grantaire show—Canada’s sweethearts, training for the Olympics, live on your television! It was just another layer of stress to add to the bottomless pit that was the panic of the Olympics. They had to represent their country, be absolutely perfect, win everything they could this season, not worry about Madame Thenardier’s loyalties, and appear picture-perfect to the entirety of Canada. He wasn’t Enjolras. He didn’t know how to make the media be spellbound and in love with him. Grantaire was sick and tired of having a camera in his face every second of every day. Today was his single morning of release, as the swarm was with Enjolras now, and then would be coming to Magnon’s to interview her.  _

_ “What do you think your relationship will be like after the Olympics?” _

_ Enjolras was taken aback. The great orator, his words were unprepared but soft and true. “I have this corny vision of us, in twenty years, reminiscing and just sitting together and watching Jeopardy. We have such a special relationship with each other, and it’s really hard for other people to understand. But I don’t want to lose it.”  _

_ When the same question was asked at Grantaire’s house, it was instead to his pseudo-mother, Magnon. Grantaire left the room, scared to hear the answer. Magnon took a sip of her drink. “I think they’ll realize how close they are next year when they’re not so together every day. It’ll be tough,” she paused, wiping away a tear. “I just hope that they’re good friends seventeen years down the road, as good as they are now.”  _

**March 12, 2016: Osaka, Japan**

“Hey, let’s go to that karaoke bar after the show tonight, huh?” Courfeyrac asked Enjolras, seeing his friend almost shudder at the mention of karaoke. “ ‘Ferre, Boss, Joly, you in?” he asked, ignoring Enjolras’s look that had turned to a glare. 

“Always!” Joly smiled. “I’ll go tell ‘Aire and Musichetta!” 

Grantaire knew that Enjolras hated karaoke, but would go if everyone else was. And would sit in the corner, and refuse to sing, while Grantaire started out singing beautifully, before descending into gradually louder, more annoying, off-key serenades as he got progressively drunker. 

Enjolras dragged his feet as they walked to the bar, silently biting his lip and dreading the evening. A small room of loud, excited people was not his forte. Speaking before them about something he cared about, yes. Talking about life and relationships and singing, even though it was nothing serious, was something that had never come easily to him. He wasn’t a social person. He liked small conversations with a single person. Sure, he could small talk and schmooze his way through an event, but this was different. This was supposed to be a close group of friends. 

The energy around Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and Joly seemed magnetic. They just radiated a feeling, a place you wanted to be. This must be why they want to watch you skate, Enjolras thought. No, not him. Why they wanted to watch Grantaire, Enjolras a simple ornament. Enjolras sat to the side, worrying his hands and lips as he watched, an outsider to his own group of friends. Combeferre, at least, sat by him, although it was clear that even he didn’t want to spend the evening talking through choreography and strategy. Combeferre was simply sitting by Enjolras out of pity, out of routine, after all the years of the two of them sitting at the backs of parties taking pictures together. At least, that was the thought running through Enjolras’s mind as he went to get a drink. He didn’t like to drink, but it was something to do, something to distract him from the way Grantaire seemed to sing only to him. 

“Enjolras, please! One song!” And there he was. Terribly out of tune and yet utterly captivating. 

“Grantaire, you know I don’t sing.”

“Please?” 

Enjolras shook his head. “I should head back to the hotel. Stay, have fun. I have something to do early tomorrow.” 

No one missed how Grantaire’s smile seemed to drop, or how his eyes lingered on the spot Enjolras had occupied for the rest of the night. 

**_February 22, 2014: Sochi Olympics, Exhibition_ **

_ Enjolras stood backstage, Grantaire beside him in his peripheral vision. It felt like it couldn’t possibly be the end, but it had to be. They had gone out there and done what they could, and it was over now. While Grantaire was in reach, it felt like he might as well could’ve been on a different planet. Tonight Grantaire would go congratulate his girlfriend on her win, and Enjolras would be alone again, probably forcing himself to party with Team Canada in an effort to not be the loneliest olympian in the village. Well, find someone to be around. Team Canada meant Gibelotte, and Grantaire, and their picture-perfect, brand-new, media-ready relationship to contend with.  _

_ He was shaken out of his thoughts by Cosette gently squeezing his shoulder, asking about their exhibition.  _

_ “I’ve been listening to the Unapologetic album a lot, here, and it’s kind of been a way to get myself in the right headspace. This song—it’s about two broken people, two people who love each other but just can’t get their timing coordinated and keep missing each other for whatever reason and so I think they’re two very vulnerable, emotionally disturbed people. But there’s definitely that longing—” Enjolras looked at Grantaire, who, while turned to him, had an unreadable expression, “—longing to be together...right?” The last word was directed at Grantaire, who merely nodded, swallowing.  _

_ Grantaire silently enveloped Enjolras in a hug, the silent, meaningful hug of seventeen years of tradition. The hug that began each dance, each show, each competition. The touch that linked their minds, their breaths, that said I’m here with you, in this moment.  _

_ Enjolras lay down on the ice, letting the cold of it seep through the thin fabric of his shirt as he waited for the music to begin. _

_ All along it was a fever _ _   
_ _ A cold sweat, hot-headed believer _ _   
_ _ I threw my hands in the air, said, "Show me something" _ _   
_ _ He said, "If you dare, come a little closer" _

_ Enjolras shook as he left the ice, willing the tears in his eyes not to fall as he left for the changerooms, leaving Grantaire behind. Grantaire took his warm up jacket and stayed on the ice, not wanting his time there to end. The ice was safe. The ice was his. He kissed his hand, pressing it to the ice, a thank you for seventeen years of success. Seventeen years of Enjolras. _

_ Makes me feel like I can't live without you _ _   
_ _ It takes me all the way _ _   
_ _ I want you to stay _ _   
_ __ I want you to stay

**April 20, 2016: Toronto, Ontario**

Tour drained Enjolras. It was easily his least favourite part of being a skater—the meet and greets and throngs of people who were desperate to know some secret bit of his life, some extra personal component; the way his schedule had to bend to whatever was available; the crowded bunk bed style tour bus that left no room for privacy—and yet it was what brought in the most income, and more than that, the most fan backing. Enjolras and Grantaire, Canada’s sweethearts. Every second they had to be the polite, sweet, charming pair with a hint of mystique, never quite revealing whether or not they were a couple. Enjolras was tired, while Grantaire seemed to thrive, going out drinking with Eponine, Feuilly, and Bahorel most nights. He was friendly, and responded easily to the fans, while for Enjolras it was a constant effort. 

Today was the Toronto stop, which marked both a media day and the halfway point of the tour. Enjolras stood with Valjean, while Grantaire, Eponine, Gavroche, Feuilly, and Bahorel glided around the ice, laughing and play-fighting. 

“How do you still do it?” Enjolras asked. “How do you compete with being such a legend?”

“I skate because I love it. I wouldn’t still be doing this if I didn’t love it. When I step out there, I don’t think of Jean Valjean, the figure skater who went to the Olympics. I think of myself, today, and what I want to do. And today, that’s to skate to rock music and have fun.”

“But what if I’ve already peaked? What if I’m just the guy who was once the best in the world and I’ll never be that again?”

“Then you do it for yourself. Look at them,” Valjean gestured to the group sliding on the ice. “Do you think they’re thinking about who’s going to win?”

Enjolras swallowed, then nodded, taking in Valjean’s words. How was it that Grantaire could be so carefree, so childlike when every minute of Enjolras’s day seemed to revolve around thinking about the Olympics to come in two years? 

“Enjolras, come join us!” Eponine laughed. 

“No, Apollo won’t bend to such childish games,” teased Grantaire. 

With a final look at Valjean, Enjolras pushed off the wall, hurling towards Grantaire without abandon, “oh, really?” 

**_November 17, 2013: Trophee Eric Lombard, Paris, France_ **

_ This competition was a surefire win, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t important on the road to Sochi. Besides, this was a difficult program and the more practice they got out of it, the better. On top of that, they were still filming the tv show. Enjolras was flipping upwards into a particularly difficult lift when Claquesous and Babet came out of nowhere, almost colliding with them. Grantaire quickly stopped, minding Enjolras’s safety over everything else.  _

_ “Can they not see? There’s like ten people on the ice,” Madame Thenardier mumbled from the boards.  _

_ The final edit of the tv show would cut to a confessional of Grantaire, “This is a dangerous sport. An accident could mean injury, or the end of someone’s career. Usually, when someone’s music is on, you stay the fuck out of the way.”  _

_ However, in the present, Grantaire and Enjolras simply sighed, skating over to the boards, tailed by an apologetic Claquesous and Babet. Enjolras grabbed his water bottle, watching the other pair interact with his partner.  _

_ “Sorry, sorry,” Babet said. _

_ “It’s okay, buddy,” Grantaire responded, a fake smile plastered on his face. As Claquesous and Babet skated away, Grantaire turned back to Enjolras and Madame Thenardier.  _

_ “I remember my first ice dance competition,” he quipped, making Madame Thenardier laugh loudly and heartily.  _

**May 2016: Montreal, Quebec**

For Enjolras, it felt like the first day of school. He had his and Grantaire’s training attire picked out, and was excited to begin training again. He thrived in this type of environment—every second of every day planned out, from warm ups and off-ice training to meals and rest time. He breathed in the cool Montreal air. 

Baptistine enveloped Enjolras in a hug the minute he entered, “I’m happy you’re here. You ready to get started?” At Enjolras’s smile, she took his arm, leading him around the rink. They passed the dressing rooms with a nod of acknowledgment from Claquesous and Babet, their new rink mates. 

Enjolras stretched on the ice, waiting for the session to begin, when Grantaire tapped him on the shoulder, “hey.” Enjolras smiled and turned towards him. 

“Okay, we’ll start with some stroking exercises,” Baptistine said. The group circled the ice in their pairs, matching leg lines and edges, aiming for perfection. “Now we switch!” she called, to the surprise of Enjolras and Grantaire. They shared a look, then simply took each other’s hands once more. They didn’t need to switch partners. There was no use in trying skating with another partner when you’ve spent nineteen years with this one. It didn’t positively affect their chances at the next Olympics, so they simply wouldn’t do it. 

**_1999: Ilderton, Ontario_ **

_ “Okay, now switch partners!” Magnon called from the centre of the ice, the group of awkward children circling her. It was to help them lose the awkwardness that came from asking children to hold each other and skate side by side, with barely any space between them.  _

_ Grantaire circled the ice holding a redheaded girl, but Magnon laughed as she noticed that Grantaire’s eyes were not on the girl, or, as she expected from this age, his feet. They were on the blond boy fifteen feet ahead of him, watching with a pout, desperately wanting Enjolras to come back to skate with him but not quite rebellious enough yet to ask.  _

_ Magnon smiled, “alright, now go back to your partner.” She watched a toothy grin appear on Grantaire’s face as he bounded over to the small blond. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new season has finally begun! Competition time next! Please let me know what you think :)


End file.
